


Weasley is my king

by marginaliana



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Deathly Hallows, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-30
Updated: 2006-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ron's first day as starting Keeper. Harry does some stuff and is happy a lot. Ron is pretty happy as well. The happy boys have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weasley is my king

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shocolate).



> Beta by chaotic-vanity.

It was the day of the first match of the season, and Harry knew exactly what kind of job he had to do. Get Ron out of bed, feed him just enough to keep going but not enough that he might be sick on his broom, make sure his uniform was properly cleaned and packed up, and see him off before joining the rest of the Weasleys in the family box for the game. Though Harry was finally employed, the broommaker apprentices were always given time off for several games of the season so they could see the professional players in action, and Harry of course intended to see the Cannons whenever they played.

He rolled over in the bed and propped himself up on one elbow, watching the play of sunlight across Ron's sleeping face. The redhead wrinkled his nose and snorted with every other breath, and Harry found it almost unbearably adorable. How could he have gone on so long without realizing what a great thing he had with Ron? _What an utter idiot I was,_ he thought. _I'm so lucky he stuck around long enough for me to come to my senses._

Playfully, Harry began to run his fingers over Ron's stomach, just firmly enough that it would caress instead of tickling but not strongly enough to wake him. He loved the feel of Ron's lanky body against his palm; Ron was all silky skin and muscles. He skimmed his fingers over a nipple and Ron moaned, twisting in his sleep but not waking. Harry smirked, wondering how far he could go before Ron came awake. He leaned down and pressed his open mouth to Ron's stomach, licking his way from freckle to freckle lightly, moving upwards at an unhurried pace.

Ron mumbled Harry's name but his eyes stayed closed, so Harry continued, licking each of Ron's nipples in turn and enjoying the way they hardened under his tongue. He moved downward again, rubbing his cheek across Ron's hipbones and kissing the soft skin of his thighs. By now Ron was completely hard, and Harry nudged his legs apart before resuming his teasing.

"Oi, Harry, get to it," came Ron's raspy voice, and Harry laughed. Looking up, he watched as Ron rested his arms behind his head and waggled his pelvis with a sleepy but distinctively amused look in his face. Harry smirked.

"I dunno… maybe I should wait until after the game," he teased.

Ron pouted playfully. "Shut up and suck me, would you?"

Harry obliged, sucking the head of Ron's cock into his mouth and swirling his tongue in the way he knew Ron loved.

"Merlin, Harry!" Ron moaned, thrusting upward against Harry's measured movements. Harry smiled, his lips curving around Ron's cock, and sucked him all the way in. A few more minutes of sucking and Ron came, calling Harry's name and fisting his hands in the sheets.

"Mmm, I could get used to a wake-up like that," murmured Ron, pulling Harry's face up to his own and nuzzling into Harry's neck languidly.

"You won't, if you don't hold up your end of the action," laughed Harry, grinding himself against Ron's hip pointedly. Ron laughed and reached down, pressing his palm against Harry's cock and curling his fingers down to where they just brushed Harry's balls. Harry grunted and pushed against Ron's hand, desperate for friction. Sucking Ron off had brought him to the edge already, so it didn't take long before he was panting and thrusting and coming all over Ron's hand and hip.

They lay together for a moment before Harry remembered his game day duties.

"Right," he said, fighting against the urge to drop back into sleep. "Up you get. Into the shower and I'll have breakfast ready when you get out. It's your big day."

Ron immediately looked nervous. "Harry," he whined, "you know I can't eat before a game. I'll just throw it all up anyway."

"Bollocks," said Harry. "You'll need something to keep your energy up. It won't be enough to make you sick. Don't I know how it works?"

Ron had to admit that he did, and hauled himself up, earning a smack on the arse from Harry as he headed towards the shower.

\-----

Harry and Ron arrived at the team's clubhouse (a squat building with orange walls) and dropped Ron's bag in the changing rooms (each player had his own orange locker) before heading to the common area (rectangular, with large windows and fluffy orange couches arranged before a lecture area). The members of the team were used to Harry accompanying their Keeper and they greeted the two with friendly waves. Harry bid goodbye to Ron with a quick kiss and left him going over strategies with the coach, while he slipped away to Free Elf Catering in Diagon Alley, where he had arranged for a special surprise for the team.

"Hello, Dobby," he called, spotting the friendly elf. After the war, forced with the choice of either having the devoted Dobby constantly underfoot as his own personal elf or finding him a suitable position, Harry had put him on to the idea of catering and inadvertently started a whole industry.

"Harry Potter!" squealed Dobby, and Harry tried not to wince at the elf's high-pitched enthusiasm. Dobby grinned widely, ears flapping, then lowered his voice to what passed for a house-elf whisper.

"Master Harry is coming by to see about his special project?" Harry grinned and nodded. Dobby pulled Harry over to a corner cabinet which he unlocked with a wave of his hand. Inside was a huge creation only vaguely recognizable as a cake. It was a stylized representation of a Quidditch pitch, with ribbon-sugar hoops, decorated in the Cannons' colors. To one side, there were ribbon-sugar representations of all the players, both the starting lineup and the reserves. They would have to be enchanted to fly over the cake at the last minute before the cake was brought out; Harry had been practicing the spell on kitchen tools for weeks and he was pretty sure he had it down pat (though it hadn't been accomplished without having had to run out and buy another couple of forks lest Ron get suspicious).

"This is perfect, Dobby." The elf nodded proudly. "Just bring it on along when the match is over and I'll do the last minute stuff when it's time, okay?"

"Yessir, Mister Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby enthusiastically, and Harry carefully extricated himself through the back door of the shop. _Next stop,_ he thought, _the Burrow._

\-----

The Burrow was awash with activity visible even from the edge of the garden.

"Ginny!" screeched Molly Weasley. "What's taking you so long? Neville is waiting!"

"I'm coming, Mum!" Ginny hollered back, catching sight of Harry through the window as he hurried up the path. "Hold your hippogriffs!" she grumbled as he passed directly underneath, not loud enough to carry down to her mother but clearly audible to Harry, who snickered and moved to knock smartly on the door.

"Oh, Harry, darling! I'm so glad you're here!" said Molly, drawing him into a smothering hug. Harry bore it with contentment; when he and Ron had told his family about their relationship, he'd expected some resistance to the idea, but Molly had been overwhelmingly happy for them. He allowed her to usher him into the kitchen, where Neville was already ensconced, half-hidden behind a pile of pastries and a huge mug of hot chocolate.

They greeted each other with hearty slaps as Molly settled Harry with an equal pile of food, then went to the stairs to call Ginny again. Neville drew Harry aside.

"I…" his face flushed. "I have a favor to ask you, Harry."

"Of course, Neville! Anything."

"It's…" he gulped. "Last night I asked Ginny to marry me and she said yes!" Harry barely contained a whoop of delight as Neville indicated by gesture that they hadn't told Molly yet. "I was wondering if you'd be my best man, Harry."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Me? You really want me to do it?"

"Of course!" said Neville, as if Harry were being particularly dense. "Of course I want you. You're the only one I'd have." Harry's grin threatened to split his face.

"I… I'd be honored! Wow!" They grinned at each other silently for a moment, then Neville sobered.

"We're not going to say anything for a couple of days," he cautioned, "because it's Ron's time now. Let him have the spotlight. Then next weekend we'll break the news."

Harry beamed and nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you. I'll keep mum." He made a shushing gesture as Molly finally noticed their collaboration.

"What are you boys up to?"

"Nothing!" they chorused, grinning at each other. Just then, Ginny came down the stairs wearing something bright orange and substantially low-cut in the front, drawing away Molly's attention.

"What _are_ you wearing?!"

"Mum, I am a grown woman," argued Ginny, "and I can wear what I want. Besides, Neville likes it." Molly huffed and turned back to the stove. Behind her back, Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow and Neville nodded happily. Ginny mouthed, "Thanks" at Harry and gave him a thumbs up before diving into her breakfast.

Harry reached for one of the pastries and took a huge bite. He hadn't wanted to burden Ron with too much food, so he'd ended up only having toast for breakfast as well, figuring that Molly would provide.

"So when is everyone else coming? Or are we meeting them there?"

Molly smiled. "Percy and Arthur are meeting us there, but the rest of the boys should be here any minute." Almost as she spoke, twin cracks of Apparition were heard in the yard. Moments later, Fred and George burst in the door, tossing aside a knapsack out of which poked the ends of several frayed Chudley Cannons pennants.

"Mum!" They cried in unison, grabbing Molly around the waist and playfully spinning her around.

"Oh, stop, boys!" But she was smiling.

"And ickle Ginnykins!" said Fred, ruffling his sister's hair. Then he caught sight of what she was wearing. "Whoa!" He leaned back, taking it in. "Look, Forge - our little sister is all grown up." He drew a fake tear down his face and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry felt a warmth settle in his stomach as they teased each other. He'd always felt most at home with the Weasleys, had always wished they were his own family. Now, with Ron, he finally felt as if he belonged there, even when Ron himself was absent.

"Now, Harry," said George, turning his attention from Fred and Ginny's antics. "I've brought the face paint, so we have to figure out what order we want to sit. Neville, are you going to join us?"

Neville laughed. "I don't know if I can stay for the whole game," he admitted, "so as much as I'd like to, I probably shouldn't. Otherwise I'd mess up your spelling." Both Harry and George nodded solemnly.

"George!" said Molly quellingly. "I don't know what you think you're doing. There is to be no face paint in this family. You will behave with dignity at the match. Do you understand me?"

"But Muuuuum," protested Fred, "it's Ronnie's first game! We have to show our support. You know if he weren't playing he'd be right there with us." Harry nodded, giving Molly his most pleading look. He wanted everything to be perfect for Ron, wanted to make sure Ron knew they all supported him.

Molly sighed, looking at all their wide-eyed faces. "Oh, all right," she allowed, finally. "For this first game _only,_ do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mum!" chorused the whole family, just as another crack indicated the arrival of yet another Weasley family member. A few moments later, Charlie popped his head in.

"Hello, everyone! So, where's that face paint?"

\-----

The game lasted five hours. Harry ended up with a bright orange C on one cheek and an equally bright A on the other (Fred, George, and Charlie made up the rest of the word, with Charlie as the final S). By the end of the third hour his throat hurt from cheering at Ron's spectacular saves, and his pennant fell off its stick somewhere around hour four. But he was having the best time of his life. Ron seemed to have outgrown the confidence problems that had plagued him during his Hogwarts games, and made save after save, only letting a few slide through.

The rest of the Cannons were solidly good players as well – the owners had gone all out this year, replacing Dorkins, the manager, with Anwar Llewellyn, who was much more aggressive in his coaching, and replacing Seeker Galvin Gudgeon with Orla Quirke, who had played for Ravenclaw in her seventh year. Despite the changes, it was clear that no one really expected the Cannons to win over the Arrows, and when Quirke caught the snitch leaving the score 340 to 210 for the Cannons, the stadium went wild. Some of the fans stormed the pitch, lifting Ron and Quirke onto their shoulders and parading them around. Nudging Ginny, Harry cast _Sonorus_ and lifted his voice in song.

Weasley is our King,  
Weasley is our King,  
He didn't let the Quaffle in,  
Weasley is our King.

Weasley can save anything,   
He never leaves a single ring,  
That's why Cannons fans all sing:  
Weasley is our King.

Mid-way through, Ron jumped back on his broom and buzzed the box, grinning like a maniac. Harry felt his heart turn over just as it had so many times before. He loved Ron, loved seeing him happy, loved knowing that he'd helped put that look on Ron's face.

"All right, Weasleys!" he announced, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Down to the clubhouse for a little celebratory party."

\-----

Harry threw Ron's arm over his shoulders as they left the clubhouse, helping his tipsy partner through the door. Ron's lips were on his ear and Harry couldn't help but shiver at the delightful sensation. Harry's cake had been a great hit, floating into the party on the magic of six orange-clad house elves, with molded sugar players flying in formation. After the figures were taken down and handed out, Ron had spent a significant portion of the evening licking the image of himself and giving Harry sultry looks from underneath his eyelashes, and Harry had had to keep alternating between talking himself down from an erection and stepping into the bathroom to adjust his robes.

Now he slipped his arm around Ron's waist and drew them to the Apparition point.

"Oh, ho," said Ron throatily, nuzzling Harry's ear. "Getting fresh with the star player, eh?" His voice was teasing. "Wanting a piece of the greatness?" Harry threw back his head and laughed.

"Yeah, that's it. You are irresistible." He'd meant to tease back, but somehow between the flex of Ron's stomach under his hand and Ron's hot breath on his earlobe, it came out sultry and utterly sincere. Ron chuckled.

"Course I am." He nuzzled Harry's ear again, nibbling on the lobe. Harry shook him off briefly as they reached the Apparition area, desperate to concentrate. Once they reappeared on the porch, however, Harry turned, pressing Ron against the door and thrusting their hips together.

"God," he moaned, leaning down to nip at Ron's throat. "I've been ready for this for _hours_!" He could feel Ron's grin against his hair. "You bloody tease."

"Inside!" was Ron's only reply, and they tumbled through the door.

Once the door was shut, Harry pinned Ron against the wall, pulling his arms over his head and holding them there with one hand while the other quickly untucked Ron's jersey and snaked underneath. He slid the tips of his fingers up Ron's faintly furred belly and over his nipples, stopping briefly to twist and tease and pinch each of them before moving downward again.

Now Ron was moaning and pushing against Harry's hands. "Please," he choked out as Harry's palm scraped along the front of his waistband.

"Serves you right," growled Harry playfully, swooping in to nip at Ron's exposed collarbone. "You teased me all bloody evening!" He soothed the bite mark with a swipe of his tongue and Ron bucked against him. Harry's thigh pressed between Ron's legs as he ground their bodies together rhythmically.

"Now," Harry teased, his voice showing only a hint of his own dangerous arousal. "What shall I do next? Should I bring you off just like this, teasing, making you harder and harder," he paused, pulsing his hip against Ron's erection, "until I can stroke you just once and you'll come in your trousers?" Ron whimpered. "Or should I suck you off, treat your cock like that sugar sculpture you had so much fun with earlier? Should I take you in and make you come down my throat?" Ron's breaths became harsh pants as Harry slipped his hand between them, pressing his palm against the bulge in Ron's trousers.

"Or should I fuck you right here against the wall?" continued Harry. "Fuck you long and hard until you're screaming my name?"

"Please!" moaned Ron, and Harry leaned back to take in the whole delicious picture. Ron's hair was tousled from rubbing up against the wall, his lips were red and swollen from Harry's frenzied kisses, and the pale line of his throat was exposed as he arced against Harry's hands.

"Please what, Ron?" asked Harry, knowing he wouldn't be able to control himself much longer.

"Please fuck me," said Ron, and Harry smashed their mouths together once more, his free hand tearing open first Ron's trousers and then his own. He reached for his wand and Ron took the opportunity to shuck his trousers completely. Harry moaned at the sight of Ron's cock springing upwards from underneath his jersey and cupped it briefly, sliding his thumb over the head. Ron shuddered.

Impatiently Harry pulled back and cast a lubricating charm onto his fingers, then thrust forward to kiss Ron once again as his fingers pressed inside.

"Please," said Ron, the word drawing itself out to a delightful moan, and Harry slicked his own cock quickly with the rest of the lubricant. He parted Ron's legs with one knee and pressed him against the wall, balancing their joined weights carefully. Ron draped his arms over Harry's shoulders and Harry slid inside.

Nothing else could compare to this feeling, thought Harry semi-coherently. Nothing like the sugary taste of Ron's lips, nothing like the wiry muscles of Ron's legs wrapped around his waist, nothing like Ron's hot, slick body around his cock. Nothing like Ron's breathy moans and curses as Harry fucked him hard against the wall.

"Yes, Harry, ohhh." And Harry sucked on Ron's bottom lip, thrusting his tongue against the slightly chapped surface. "Please, Harry, just…" Ron's words were muffled, buzzing pleasantly against Harry's mouth, and Harry came, hard. Seconds later he felt Ron follow him over the edge and they slumped together for a long moment.

"Love you," murmured Harry, slowly pulling away and stroking Ron's face as he winced.

"Love you, too," said Ron, displaying the dopey grin Harry adored. "Now, bed." He gave Harry a gentle shove towards the stairs.

"Yes, oh champion Weasley!" Harry saluted sardonically.

"I'll champion _you,_" said Ron, pinching Harry's arse. "Champion you right into the mattress." Harry smiled and waggled his bottom seductively as he climbed.

"Weasley is my king," he hummed under his breath, and thought pleasantly of the shagging he was about to receive.


End file.
